


Widowmaker's Smelly Interrogation Tactics

by emissaryofrainbows



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Belly Kink, Burping, Dom/sub, Dominance, F/F, Femdom, Fetish, Gross, Stuffing, Vore, burp torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 05:10:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19660492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emissaryofrainbows/pseuds/emissaryofrainbows
Summary: Tracer finds herself at the mercy of Widowmaker's newest method of torture: unleashing hot, smelly burps right into her face and then trapping her in her disgusting stomach.





	Widowmaker's Smelly Interrogation Tactics

“Wake up,” a woman’s voice said. Her tone was utterly devoid of emotion, featureless, besides her unmistakable French accent, which Lena recognized almost immediately.

She instinctively tried to rub her eyes, but she found that her arms were tied behind her. She looked down, to see that her body was bound to a chair with steel restraints. Her chronal accelerator wasn’t on her chest. She could see its blue glow on a nearby table, one of the only light sources in the otherwise dark room. 

As Lena’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see Widowmaker standing in front of her. The thing that immediately caught her attention was Widowmaker’s abdomen. It was bloated, as though she was pregnant...no, it was too saggy and shapeless to be a pregnancy. Based on the *ggggGGloorps* and *grrrrrggg*’s it emitted, she figured that Widowmaker had just finished an enormous meal. Strangely, she wasn’t wearing her usual uniform. Instead, she had an outfit resembling her original Talon costume, with her white top that exposed her midriff, making her burgeoning belly even more conspicuous. 

Lena was confused. Talon had captured her, Widowmaker had her and her mercy, and her first priority was to binge herself into a food baby? She had a feeling she was about to find out soon, and when she did, it wouldn’t be pleasant. 

For now, Widowmaker was simply observing her unsettlingly. Finally, Tracer was compelled to speak, simply to break the silence.

“What do you want?” she said. 

“I want information, and to get it, I will torture you.”

“Pfff, good luck,” Tracer said, her usual spunky attitude beginning to shine through. “I’ve been trained to resist every kind of torture there is.”

“Believe me,” Widowmaker said, leaning in so her pale purple face was inches away from Tracer’s. “Nobody’s prepared you for what I’m about to do.”

Widowmaker’s stomach sloshed, in a way that was almost ominous, like the distant cry of some animal about to pounce.

Widowmaker’s mouth shot open. 

*OOOOOOrrrrrrrpppPPPpp*

A loud, wet belch exploded from her throat, directly into Tracer’s face. Her cheeks were coated in flecks of saliva, and the rest of her face was treated to a forceful gust of repulsively humid air, as the visible cloud of green gas blew past her. The sensation of Widowmaker’s burp was sickening enough, but the smell was the worst part by far. She couldn’t avoid inhaling it from that range, so she was treated to a noseful of Widowmaker’s absolutely rancid stench. She gagged and sputtered, it was utterly indescribable. She couldn’t imagine what food Widowmaker could’ve eaten to generate such a smell. Judging by the size of her enormous gut, whatever it was, she’d eaten a lot of it.

“Ack, bloody hell!” She pushed against her restraints, instinctively wanting to fan her nose to get that awful stink away from her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t, so the green cloud hung around her head for a few more seconds, each breath treating her to another round of that dreadful odor.

By time the belch-cloud had fully dissipated, Lena felt like she was about to pass out. Given how unpleasant an experience that was, being unconscious seemed like the best option for her right now.

“Maybe you’ll make this easier on yourself, hm?” Widowmaker mocked. The stench of old chicken and cheap wine floated around Tracer’s face. Widowmaker wasn’t wrong when said no one would be prepared for this type of “torture”. This was the first time anyone used their gas in such a disgusting but effective manner. 

“I find it surprising you’re still clinging to your consciousness after that. I’m impressed. Being allies with Sombra can be...frustrating at times and normally one of those vile smelling eruptions is enough to shut her up for the rest of the day.” Widow leaned in, whispering in Tracer’s ear. “Are you feeling cooperative yet?”

“Not a ch-”

*BHHOOuurP*

Tracer didn’t even get to finish her sentence before being interrupted by another horrid blast to her face.

Since her mouth was open, Tracer got a good taste of Widowmaker’s belch, in addition to the already wretched smell. Both of her senses were assaulted at once, leaving Lena utterly overwhelmed. 

Not wanting to risk having her taste buds tainted by Widowmaker again, Tracer opted to simply shake her head, to show that she still wasn’t going to comply.

“Your girlfriend must be worried about you,” Widowmaker said. Tracer felt a chill run through her body. How could she have known about Emily?

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt her, at least, not directly. But if you don’t give me the information I want, you won’t get to leave. And if you don’t, well, you’ll never get to do this again…”

Widowmaker leaned forward, and pressed her lips against Tracer’s. Widowmaker’s kiss was oddly mechanical, and dispassionate, but that didn’t stop it from being enjoyable. Her cooling skin contrasted appealingly with her soft, pillowy lips.

You’re so stupid, Tracer thought. You should’ve known what was going to happen next.

Predictably, Widowmaker’s kiss ended poorly for Tracer. With their lips pressed together, Widowmaker had a perfect opportunity to unleash another belch, which she did, gladly. Tracer’s tongue was coated with the nasty aftertaste of Widowmaker’s last meal.

Tracer pulled away from the kiss immediately, but there was no escaping from her belch. It had spread to her nostrils, so her sense of smell wasn’t safe either. 

“I enjoyed my *URP* diner quite a lot,” she said, patting her stomach. “I imagine it tastes much worse on the way up,” she added.

“Yeah...no kidding” Lena visibly spat trying any method she could to rid herself of the purple woman’s disgusting “gift”. 

Tracer lost all concept of time while being forced to breathe in Widow’s stink. She had no idea how long she’d been here, and didn’t know how much more she’d be able to take. One thing had been clear, Widowmaker’s gas was showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. In fact what used to be controlled bursts of gas, Widow’s tummy seemed to be working overtime. Letting her gross belches spill out slowly, or even in interrupting herself while she spoke. 

“You seem a bit ill dear, are you not enjoying the leftovers I so graciously decided to share with you?” Widow chuckled. “I mentioned many times that I don’t feel the cold, but *OOURP* my sense of smell isn’t very strong either so I’m afraid you’re the only one who gets to enjoy the lovely aftermath of the *URRP* feast that was prepared earlier this evening.” Even her smaller burps carried a pungent aroma and she made sure Tracer smelled every last one and blew each one into Lena’s face.

Lena’s torment wasn’t in big, especially smelly expulsions anymore, but from the constant, inescapable miasma that now hung in the air. She couldn’t take a single breath without exposing herself to at least some amount of stink. She assumed that she’d eventually adjust, but no, every time was just as shockingly repulsive as the first. Widowmaker was still letting out a consistent stream of burps every few seconds, so she was never safe from her gas.

“I’m done playing around,” Widowmaker said. “Tell me what I want to know, or things will get much, much worse.”

“I’m not sure if that’s even possible,” she replied snappily, regretting her words almost immediately.

Widowmaker leaned in close, causing Lena to flinch instinctively. 

“You have no idea. I still have plenty of *OOORP* gas saved up for you.”

Lena’s disgust turned to anger. She was sick of feeling so helpless! Widowmaker was going to continue her assault no matter what, but Tracer wasn’t going to take it without resistance.

“Do your worst,” she said. 

“I always do,”

Widowmaker took a deep breath, and released her longest, loudest, and most vile-smelling belch yet. It smelled like it must’ve come from the foulest depths of her stomach, or from the pits of hell itself. It was sickeningly warm, and moist, sticking to her face like water droplets on a cold beer. It was like walking through a cloud of London fog, but worse, much worse. 

Lena felt like she’d been punched, dizzy from the unfathomable nastiness she’d been exposed to. Despite all that, she couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, if that’s your worst, I can take it. You’ll never get anything from me.”

“Oh, no, that wasn’t my worst,” Widowmaker said. “That was just the appetizer.”

Widowmaker pressed a button on her wrist that caused Tracer’s restraints to snap open. Before she could make a run for her Chronal Accelerator, Widowmaker did something that, even after all that had happened before, left Tracer utterly shocked.

She opened up her mouth, but instead of belching, as she’d expected, she kept opening it, wider and wider, until her gaping maw looked large enough to swallow Tracer’s entire head. As it turns out, it was. Widowmaker wrapped her lips around the top of Lena’s head, using her tongue to push her towards her throat. 

Once Tracer’s head was deep enough, she used her esophagus to draw her in even further, until her entire head was trapped in Widow’s body. Lena’s face was thickly covered in a layer of Widowmaker’s saliva, as her head entered her throat, and her neck began to be swallowed.

*GLORP*

Widowmaker gulped wetly, as Tracer’s neck was consumed. Her shoulders were next; Widowmaker’s maw expanded even more to accommodate them. The rest was easy. She had little difficulty devouring Tracer’s modest breasts, or her slender waist. 

Tracer’s screams were muffled by Widowmaker’s body. She struggled, but her arms were already almost completely submerged in Widowmaker’s flesh. She kicked her legs, but that did little to deter her predator. If anything, her struggling encouraged her, as she seemed to be eating her even faster. Once Tracer’s hips were consumed, Widowmaker was met with her biggest challenge so far. Tracer’s ass was the largest, and widest part of her body, and as a result, would be the most difficult to devour.

Widowmaker let her mouth stretch just a bit more, so she could fit that plump rump into her cavernous maw.

Widowmaker took extra time to savor Tracer’s ass. She ran her tongue over it as it descended into her throat, relishing its flavor, its softness, and its appealingly round shape against her tongue.

With her ass out of the way, the rest was easy. She slurped down Tracer’s kicking legs without much difficulty. Then, only her feet remained, and then, not a single inch of Tracer existed outside of Widowmaker’s body. 

With a final gulp, Tracer’s entire body was sent rocketing towards her final destination: Widowmaker’s stomach. 

Widowmaker’s already considerable belly bulged out even more, to accommodate the full-sized woman inside of it. Her belly could be seen shifting and bulging from the outside, the outline of Tracer’s fists visible as she punched uselessly against her captor’s stomach walls. 

“There’s no escape,” Widowmaker said, tracing her fingertips over the curve of her titanic tummy.

Widowmakers burps were horrid, and Tracer was now trapped in the source of them. Her entire stomach was a dank swamp of mind-meltingly smelly digestive gases. Half of her body was submerged in stomach acids, mixed in with the remains of mostly-digested food. 

Widowmaker waddled over to Tracer’s chronal accelerator, her belly wobbling from side to side, sloshing with loud *GLURPS* and *BLORTS*

She took the Accelerator from the table, and strapped it around her upper body. This way, no matter where she went, Tracer would remain locked in her current position in time, with no way of escaping. Since Tracer couldn’t see this, as she was still in her lightless, wet prison, Widowmaker felt compelled to explain.  
“You’ll be trapped inside my foul, gassy stomach, until you finally decide to give in. You should do it soon, otherwise I might start to enjoy having you in there.”

With one final belch, Widowmaker retired to her chambers, with Tracer still trapped inside of her. Lena’s struggles lulled her to sleep, as she fogged up her room with steamy belches throughout the night.


End file.
